


It Hurts

by MisakiSachio



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Feels, Hopeful Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 17:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21323956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisakiSachio/pseuds/MisakiSachio
Summary: It hurts! Please, make it stop!
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 12
Kudos: 7





	It Hurts

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

Make it stop, please. He doesn’t want to be hurting anymore. The pain is coursing through his body, blinding him with its force and intensity. He lays there, on dirty ground in some dark alleyway, with a tear-stained face, snotty nose, and vomit on his clothes. He needs him. The one he loves. The one whom he fell in love with but didn’t realize it until it was too late. Until he broke his heart. Until he did the unforgivable and betrayed him in every way possible. He lost him. Ian lost him because he is too stupid. Where is he? Does he hate him? Please, don’t. He can’t hate him. That is not something Ian would be able to live through. Please. Ian chokes on his breath, with unseeing eyes trying to figure out where he is now. Trying to remember how he got there, but in the end, it doesn’t matter, does it? He is struggling to get up, to get away from the disgusting ground, but he is too weak. Weak from those weeks of hunger, alcohol, drugs, and pain. He has been in pain ever since he pushed Mickey away. He didn’t want to do it, at the time it seemed like the best thing to do. Ian only wished to protect Mickey. Protect him from Ian. From his stupidity, his sickness his problems. He didn’t mean to hurt them, but he did. He thought he was making things better, easier. He wasn’t

Mickey. Where is he now? Does he think of Ian? Because Ian thinks of hi every single fucking minute, he is able to get through the thick fog that clouds his mind. Mickey is on Ian’s mind constantly. Ian would say that is a common occurrence since the time they shared their first kiss, but to be completely honest, it was probably since the first time he saw him in little league, pissing all over the base. That little loudmouthed brat. It was the same field they so often snuck into to fuck. Those days were wonderful. They were days full of beer and laughter. He misses those the most. Sure, he misses Mickey’s strong arms, toned body, and that perfect ass of his, but what he misses the most are those little smiles and bubbly giggles he let out against his own will. The fucking eye roll. The one that appeared when Ian did or said something particularly stupid. He misses how Mickey would perfectly fit into his arms. Into perfect hug. He misses him. So much.

How much time did pass already? Minutes, hours maybe even days? Who knows? With great effort, Ian gets off the ground, with unstable steps he wobbled out of the alley, into a dark street. Was it night already? The last Ian remembers was him leaving some random bar; it was before dusk. He had to be in that alley for the whole day. Ian continues to walk. He doesn’t know where he is going. He can’t even go home. They hate him now; he hurt them too much and too many times. He has not been in his childhood house in months. Do they miss him? They probably already forgot about him. They always did. The only time they really paid any attention to him was when he got diagnosed. They didn’t saw him though; they saw Monica. Their poor excuse of a mother 

Ian arrives at a familiar place. He knows this place like the back of his hand. Its the abandoned building mickey claimed as his. The one he dragged old couch into a used it as a practice to beat others into a pulp. The abandoned building Ian trained for days to be able to join the army, where he learned how to handle a gun, where he learned how to love. How to love Mickey. After some time, Ian is finally able to pull himself up into the little overhang where he saw it. The couch that he fucked Mickey. Ian walks closer to it and suddenly is hit with it. The smells. Mickey’s smell. It is all over the fucking place. It is stronger the closer he gets to the couch. Ian lays down and inhales deeply. For the first time in months, he is at peace; nothing hurts him, his mind is quiet for once, and so with a smile on his lips, he allows himself to fall asleep, dreaming of the one he loves.

Ian wakes up to someone shaking him. Don’t do it. He had such a beautiful dream; he wants to tell the person. He can’t; he is still too weak. Ian is desperately trying to fall back asleep to return to that dream, where he was happy with Mickey at his side. Stop trying to wake him up, please. Just leave him here. Here he can believe the illusion that everything is the way it should be. The person is persistent. For some reason, they want Ian to wake up and open his eyes. Ian doesn’t want to, but he does, and what he sees breaks him apart. Tears stream down his face. He is staring at the person kneeling at his side in disbelief.

“M-Mickey?”

“Let’s go home, Ian.”


End file.
